


A Different Kind of Golden Eye

by christinefromsherwood



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Bond and Q Friendship, Bond is accidentally cursed with Midas Touch for a short while, Crack, Gen, Humour, Inspired by Midas and the Golden Touch (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Maybe - Freeform, Original Characters in minor roles - Freeform, but not really, go on guess, guess what gets turned to gold, it's funny, there's puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood
Summary: The first thing that greeted Q’s eyes when he opened the hotel room door was a vase, knocked over from its position on a bedside table. Heavy and unbroken, it gleamed softly in the light streaming from the hallway.“Oh fuck,” he muttered, freezing in his tracks. His fingers flew to the crystal at his throat as he drew a fierykenazin the air.A foggy image flashed across his vision. James. Unharmed and unhappy. On the bathroom floor. No intruders.Taking a careful step inside, Q breathed a sigh of relief.“Bond? You in there?” he called out. As a courtesy more than anything. Flaunting one’s skills was never wise; Q had learned that quite early on.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 59
Collections: MI6 Cafe Collections





	A Different Kind of Golden Eye

**Author's Note:**

> **written for the MI6Cafe Challenge: Magic March**
> 
> Many thanks to Souffle for her betawork :)

The first thing that greeted Q’s eyes when he opened the hotel room door was a vase, knocked over from its position on a bedside table. Heavy and unbroken, it gleamed softly in the light streaming from the hallway.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, freezing in his tracks. His fingers flew to the crystal at his throat as he drew a fiery _kenaz_ in the air. 

A foggy image flashed across his vision. James. Unharmed and unhappy. On the bathroom floor. No intruders. 

Taking a careful step inside, Q breathed a sigh of relief.

“Bond? You in there?” he called out. As a courtesy more than anything. Flaunting one’s skills was never wise; Q had learned that quite early on. 

Enemies who underestimated you were vastly preferable to those who made a nuisance of themselves by insisting on proving they were stronger, whereas allies appreciated a quietly confident show of skill over loud boasting, especially those without a gift for _elan._ Moreover, James was… a friend, a rare commodity for a mage of Q’s standing.

He was already heading in that direction when Bond replied in a strained voice: “In the bathroom.” 

Q lengthened his stride, walking swiftly past the mess of blankets on the canopy bed. Something rustled at his feet. Pausing, Q looked down. 

“Huh.” 

It was a small sheet of gold-coloured tin-foil. As he bent to examine it closer, Q noticed similar golden squares littering the carpet further on, creating a trail of gold leaf like rose petals in one of the more cheesy rom-coms Bond liked to insist he didn’t get his ridiculous chat-up lines from. 

Q crouched in the hallway, stunned and frozen in spite of himself. 

_Hotel Esprit rm 61 pls com qckly Q I need u_

When Q first read James’s message, it didn’t occur to him even for a moment that it could be a booty call. 

Because James wouldn’t do that! 

Well, he _probably_ wouldn’t do that...

But definitely not on a work phone!

Q straightened from his crouch and, following the golden trail, marched towards the bathroom.

The doorknob was golden. 

Christ! Q _knew_ that Bond liked to stay in fancy places but--

 _Oh…_ That meet-up with Giles Geissler!

“James?” he called out tentatively. “Can I come in?” 

Satyrs made for good informants. When they could be trusted. Where there was a good time to be had, a satyr could be relied upon to be there having it. That often made them privy to many secrets, even if they often didn’t have the smallest clue that they knew any. 

Bond’s skills at getting a satyr to talk were unprecedented. He liked to boast it was because he knew how their minds worked and never underestimated them and their taste for trickery. Q wondered if maybe he _had_ underestimated Giles.

“Come in, Q, just…” Bond paused and cleared his throat. Q could hear him shuffling inside. He briefly considered casting _kenaz_ again but decided against it. “Just… Don’t laugh. Please.”

Sketching a quick _thurisaz_ on the gold just in case, Q grasped the doorknob and, turning it, pushed his way inside.

It was… a lot. 

Even the interior decorator of the fanciest hotel in the world _wouldn’t want_ to have this much gold in the bathroom. 

The sink; tap and basin: gold!

The toilet; lid, bowl, double flush plate, plunger: gold!

There were at least two rolls of gold toilet paper criss-crossing the gold bathroom floor tiles; a thin golden nugget that used to be Bond’s MI6 issued phone lay among them.

And in the middle of it all, like a dragon depressed because of the monotony of his hoard, sat Bond. With his hands planted firmly on the floor, his legs awkwardly crossed in front of his body, trying to hide his… gold cock.

Q stared. 

It hung--heavy, rigid, glum and solid--between his legs. It tinkled metallically when Bond shifted his weight and the furled foreskin scraped against the gold floor tiles. It was leaning to the left, revealing a pair of red, distressed testicles.

“Soooooo.” Q bit his lip and did _not_ laugh. He tore his gaze away and looked into Bond’s eyes for the first time. 

“Yeah.”

“Has this been-- How--”

“Three hours now.”

“Ah.”

“...”

“Well.”

“...”

“Hm.”

“Alright, you can laugh, Q.” 

Q threw his head back and let out a hysterical, loud cackle. And then he bent forward, braced his hands against his knees and laughed some more until the grumpy silence from the other end of the bathroom finally calmed him down.

“Sweet Morgana, James! What happened?” he asked, wiping tears from his face. 

“Fucking Giles happened!” Bond bit out, throwing out his arms. The tip of his forefinger skimmed against the edge of the bathtub. “Fuck!” 

They watched in silence as the small speck of yellow grew and spread like a hungry, caustic cleaning potion. Soon the entire tub was gleaming, glittering yellow that stung the eyes. Only the tub, though, the silvery tap still stuck out of the gold monstrosity, unapologetically different and phallic. 

Q couldn’t look at it too long without feeling another bout of hysterical laughter bubble in his throat.

“How interesting… very clever,” he mused instead, focusing his thoughts another way. 

“Oh, is it? Is it really?” Bond burst out from his position on the floor. Q raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, yes,” he said. “Somehow the curse is limited to the surface of the _material_ you touch. That is an incredibly finicky bit of sorcery! Really clever! I wonder how--”

“Q!” Bond interrupted him, face twisted in discomfort. “I’ve got a solid gold cock! Could you maybe postpone your academic interest until after you’ve--” He paused and waved his hand and trailed off. 

Q had to admit he had a point, and having a massive gold cock had to be a strain on the muscles. Still…

“Certainly,” he said and grinned. “But you have to admit, it’s a golden opportunity.”

James narrowed his eyes but Q just blinked at him innocently and stepped gingerly past him on his way to the sink. The entire bottom was solid, the plughole completely encased in a pool of gold, on top of which lay half an inch of water. 

“I tried to wash it off,” James explained, sheepishly from the floor. “It didn’t work. Obviously.”

“Hmmm,” Q hummed. “Interesting.” He tugged the crystal off his neck to grasp it better in his palm and began to examine the wash basin. Spells were roiling under the surface, entwined in intricate helixes, flashing colours like a rainbow, straining the eyes. 

Q blinked. 

“What did you do to piss Giles off, by the way?” he asked to give his eyes time to adjust to the sharp light. 

“Nothing!” James protested. Far too quickly. Q gave him a look. “We went to a bar. Like always. We chatted.” 

Q waited.

“I had nothing to do with the apsara asking me to dance after he bought her a drink!” 

“Ah.” Q nodded. Knowing satyrs, that would probably do it. “Did he give you anything?”

“No.”

“Hand you anything?”

“No!”

“Hmmm.” 

In that case, he probably slipped something into Bond’s drink. If so…

“So I’ve got good news and… _less_ good news,” Q announced finally, kneeling on the floor beside Bond. Bond grimaced. 

“Just tell me.”

“The good news is that I won’t need to prepare a spellbinding or a potion to get the hotel room in order. One strong pulse of _elhaz_ should do it.”

“Great!” 

Well, if Bond was going to be sarcastic about it while he, Q, wasted his _elan_ because of Bond’s idiocy all the while gracefully ignoring the elephant cock in the room that kept staring at him from the floor like some evil golden eye!

“Actually, it _is_ great, Bond! It means the floor won’t cave from under us.” 

Bond blinked at him.

“What? Did you think hotel architects regularly figure load bearing wards capable of withstanding a solid gold floor and facilities into their calculations?” 

“Right.” Bond looked chastened and Q almost felt bad. Almost. “And the less good news?”

Q sighed. “Giles probably cursed your drink. I don’t want to risk a rune spell wreaking havoc on your internal organs. So… we’ll have to wait it out.”

“Wait it-ow!” 

_Dink!_ The gold cock chimed against the tiles as Bond shifted in his frustration. Q took a deep breath and remained calm and unlaughing.

“Calm down, James,” he tried for a soothing tone. “Liver and kidneys are extremely effective in purifying the body. It shouldn’t take more than… another couple of hours.”

“And in the meantime I’m supposed to- what?!” 

Q looked at him. James had goosebumps all along his arms and chest. That combined with the gold cock… It couldn’t be comfortable. 

“I’ll bring you a blanket and wait with you,” he decided. Because Q was a good friend like that. 

He cast his runespell before getting up to go fetch the blanket. Better safe than sorry. James watched morosely as the floor, bathtub, sink and toilet all regained their everyday properties. Only his cock remained as it was--glum, veiny and golden, shining on the contrasting black marble of the floor so much more vividly than it had before. 

Q swallowed a giggle and went for a blanket that he then draped carefully around James’s shoulders. 

And then they waited.

* * *

“So did Giles tell you anything?” Q asked after a quarter of an hour had passed. 

“The bloody Green Men are going to change their shipping route so the entire operation is buggered.”

“Well, fuck.” That was not good.

“Quite.”

“Oh well, we’ll get them. I’ll have R start work on a new scrying.”

“Hmm.”

“I suppose we could tell each other stories to pass the time?”

“I suppose?”

“...”

“...”

“Yeah, I can’t think of anything either. Perhaps it is true and silence is _golden_.”

James sighed.

* * *

“So I’m curious. How exactly did _this_ happen? Did you need to use the bathroom…”

“Q.”

“No, that wouldn’t explain the tissues...”

“Please, Q, just…”

“OK.”

* * *

“You probably won’t be too keen on root vegetables for a while now, James?”

“What? Why?”

“Because of the karats.”

“...I’m going to throttle you when this is over, Q,” James threatened. But he was smiling. Q saw him. 

And when it finally was over, some ten minutes later, James didn’t throttle him. He closed the bathroom door behind him because he “needed a piss so bad, Q, just go, please, I’m fine now.”

And then he refused to go to Medical.

All in all it was a typical end to a more or less typical day as James Bond’s Quartermaster.

* * *

Why they couldn’t have stayed in their bed at home for their anniversary, Antius Jones would never understand. They had a perfectly nice bed with a Mendel-ApprovedTM mattress that cost a fortune! 

“Oh, Ant! Look!” Blodwen called from her position on top of the bed cover.

But the wide smile on Blodwen’s face made it worth it, Antius supposed. She had giggled like a young girl when she saw the enormous canopy bed and hurried to jump on it. 

Antius put down their overnight bag and carefully stashed the keycard for room 61 in his jacket pocket next to the packet of dried herbs. Wouldn’t do to tear it. He might need the Virili-tea after all.

“Come look!” Blodwen called again. Antius went to join her. “Have you ever seen anything so fancy? They had an entire constellation painted on the canopy! In gold! Isn’t it lovely? Looks like Orion’s Belt, doesn’t it?”

Antius squinted at the golden smudges above them. His eyes weren’t what they used to be but to him it didn’t look so much like a constellation, more like an improbably high eruption of jizz. 

Golden jizz. 

Huh. 

“What do you think, Ant?” Blodwen nudged him.

“Looks more like a flower to me,” Antius lied. 

“A flower?” Blodwen tilted her head. “Hmm, I suppose. A calla lily maybe?”

“Sure!”

**Author's Note:**

> So did you like it? :D Tell me all your thoughts. 
> 
> Anyway, here's your traditional short reclist of my favourite fics:
> 
>   * ["All the Curves and Edges" by christinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662337) \- an established, domestic 00q, much fluff
>   * ["Adam's Adventure's in SIS" by FaerieChild](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966561) \- what if Q was actually Adam Young from Good Omens?
>   * ["Baby, It's Cold Inside" by SouffleGirl91](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706711) \- Q and Bond and broken heating and a jacuzzi
>   * ["No One Flirts Like James Bone" by Celyan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805189) \- 00q get called into M's office to account for their unprofessional conduct on coms 
> 



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